


Mer De Noms

by keelover



Category: DCU, DCU - Comicverse, Stormwatch (Comics), The Authority, WildStorm
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Falling In Love, M/M, Names, Romance, Sex, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-02
Updated: 2012-09-02
Packaged: 2017-11-13 09:15:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/501888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keelover/pseuds/keelover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Apollo: God of light. Apollo: his entirety.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mer De Noms

Drifting through an endless stream of dreams.

     

    A soft light illuminated the room Midnighter shared with his husband, Apollo. A nightmare, the same nightmare he experienced year after year, jolted him awake. A name: What was his name? Midnighter settled his back against the headboard, staring down at the lines of muscle and flesh that captivated him at all hours of the day. Apollo, what was his true name?  

    A choice he had made had robbed him of something intimate, something vital; a knowledge of himself. Apollo didn’t understand, and Midnighter had resigned bringing the topic to conversation long ago. As a rough hand smooths down a broad shoulder, writing words of affection along a taught back, a thought lingers in the back of Midnighter’s head. He knew nothing before Apollo, and nothing after. The years spent without him were the most turbulent years of his life, but he felt no guilt in protecting his family; even if it was all a well cultivated lie.   

    Familiar lips caress his collar bone, leaving a well  acquainted sensation in its wake; burning, helpless lust. Apollo: God of light. Midnighter wondered if all those years spent in the darkness, in the alleyways of New York; the abandoned factories of Virginia had harmed him in some way--deep below the bronze tint of his skin. A soft sigh emerged from his lips, body pinned down by a king; a God. A warmth spreads through his entire body, keeping the cold at bay; he was always so cold.  

    Did he feel that chill before he became what he was now?

Fingers thread through snow white hair, blessed to have him. Midnighter knew there was something for them that day. Seven went in, but only two came out alive. A sign. Midnighter knew then he would never be alone, but he hadn’t realized how his new life would build and embrace a man so bright; the light that illuminated the ever present darkness. 

    Midnighter was darkness; the abyss people dared not go.

  


“Are you all right?” Apollo questioned, voice faintly heard as he slid one leg over Midnighter’s hip, effectively straddling him. 

  


“Nightmare.” 

    Apollo said nothing further as he leaned forward, pressing his lips against the man he most adored. Midnighter keened as large hands rested at the base of his neck, hips pressing down and forward. There was something in the way he smelled, the way he touched him that Midnighter could never process, could never calculate; every move Apollo made was unexpected, and it made Midnighter feel...human. A moan ripped through the soft pants, and whispered curses, a moan signaling for more than just them rocking against each other. Midnighter was more than happy to indulge his partner; his love.  

    A memory rained through, one drop at a time as Midnighter reflected on the moment he first realized the man above him was what he most wanted; the only thing he needed in order to survive. Midnighter had never known real fear until that day; striving to get out alive as Impetus, Amaze, Lamplight, Stalker, and Crow Jane all died within moments of each other. The panic he felt to grab Apollo, and get them out of there--never to look back. Apollo had fallen to his knees, the white of his costume caked with dirt; tears falling silently as he hit at the ground beneath him. Midnighter had stood silent, unsure as to what he should say.  

    “We failed them,” he said, voice choked. “They’re all dead.”

    “Whatever happened, you can bet it was Bendix’s fault,” Midnighter said, offering the other man his hand. “We need to get out of here before he finds us, and figure out who he really is.” 

    And that’s what they did. There was never a pause; no time to rest as they flew under the radar, fighting for what they believed in through the cracks and the shadows. For months they would go without food, their enhanced bodies not requiring it; it served to make them feel odd; alien. Starting a working relationship was not as hard as Midnighter first thought it would be; they needed each other to survive, but it wasn’t that simple. Apollo was all Midnighter had, and he would not give him up.

    When that possessiveness had evolved into love, he didn’t know, but he did remember when he had first acted upon his desires.

    An abandon apartment complex, rundown and unsafe served as their home for that evening. Apollo’s costume was drenched in blood, white hair tinged auburn; it had been a messy extraction. The wind outside picked up, raindrops cascading atop the worn out roof, water filtering in through the many apertures. Midnighter was unsettled, and visibly so. Apollo had almost gotten himself killed, body drained of most of his strength and yet, he gave everything he had left just to free Midnighter of his of impending calamity. Midnighter had called him an idiot, and Apollo had dropped him six feet from the ground; not high enough to kill him, but enough to make it hurt.   

    Midnighter watched as Apollo propped open the broken window, climbing out and onto the fire escape. There was no running water, and because of this, Midnighter deduced that Apollo would attempt to rinse himself with the only means he had: in the storm that raged outside. Apollo was still weak, uncharged and drained, and because of this knowledge, Midnighter followed him. The water that pelted him was cold, hard as the wind grew stronger; it was unpleasant, but so were a lot of things. Apollo stood naked, feet placed apart, and eyes closed shut as he no doubt reflected on the days events.   

    Midnighter stripped as well, placing them on even ground. Apollo needed to understand, he needed to realize that he was more than a partner to him; he was everything. If Apollo heard him approaching, he ignored him, remaining stoic in his stance. Midnighter didn’t resist the urge to touch him, but his hands didn’t rest at the bend of his shoulders, instead they trailed along the curve of his biceps, stroked along the width of his back. With his forehead pressed against the crook of Apollo’s neck, Midnighter settled his left hand over the other mans chest, pulling him back and into his embrace.

    Apollo’s acceptance of his affections indicated he was comfortable in allowing it, but it was not forgiveness nor understanding. “You could have died,” he said. “And I prevented it. And what do I get in return?” he asked. “Your resentment.”

    Midnighter didn’t waste time with words, opting instead to turn the other man around to face him. If it wasn’t for the implants, the reformatting of his entire body, he would not have been able to apprise Apollo in the stark darkness of such a dreary night. “We’ve been doing this long enough,” he said. 

    

    “I know.”

    Three years spent on the lamb, lost with no where to go; no identity, and only one purpose to drive them. Apollo’s hair was shorter back then, but just as tangible as they embarked upon their first kiss. A kiss that soon wasn’t enough, with years worth of tension driving them forward, they gave in. There wasn’t, and there never would be, anyone Midnighter loved more than him. No one else compared.    

    There was no one else who made him feel complete; unbroken. 

    Midnighter had a hard time keeping traction across the bared, wet flesh above him, scent warm and fresh, heated and intoxicating as all the anger washed away. Apollo was not timid in the moves he made, tongue matching his, teeth nipping already bruised lips, the naked swell of his length grinding against him. What two people could do strictly with their hands should be considered an art form; that first night igniting an eternal flame; an unquenchable thirst. Midnighter would have been content to spend the rest of the night upon that roof, drenched and fighting to gain his sanity and his dominance, if only the roof hadn’t gave way and caved in. It served as a humorous reminder well enough.    

    “My love, where have you gone?” Apollo questioned, blue eyes curious, but also amused. “Is me being willing and naked not distracting enough?”

    “I was just thinking...about us, naked,” he said, and frowned when Apollo laughed, pressing their foreheads together as he kissed him. Midnighter would never tire of his mouth.

    

    “Is our being naked right now not enough?” he asked, willing to forgive his husband and his unusual ways. 

    “More than enough,” Midnighter said, voice rough and menacing to ordinary ears as he rolled them over, effectively switching their positions in one fluid motion. The shimmer of Apollo’s halo was nothing compared to the way his hair cascaded down upon the silk of their sheets, forming a crown only he could wear. 

    What name would he call out if he knew Midnighter’s true identity? What name would Midnighter growl against the lobe of his ear if he knew what Apollo’s mother had bestowed upon him? What would Jenny call them if she could place a past to her parent’s individual stories? What would Angie, Shen, or Jack chose to call them when not in the midst of battle? So many questions, and not a god damn one of them could be answered. 

    Apollo groaned against his ear, a whisper of  _more_  stumbling through a slack mouth as Midnighter added a second finger to the first. The artificial smell of oil served to make his nose gather in disgust, he could smell all that layered beneath the faint mint scent; it served its purpose. The sounds he collected with every small thrust, every flick of his wrist, every filthy word uttered was a memory added; a time saved. There was nothing better than this, being somewhere warm, with a bed and a place to call their home. The light they had been searching for all those years.     

    Apollo’s heart rate always sped up as Midnighter breached him for the first time, perspiration collecting at the center of his brow. The way Apollo allowed his hands to be bound behind his back as Midnighter pounded relentlessly inside of him was a notable display of trust. At any moment, Apollo could break his hold, but chose not to; partly because he didn’t want to, and partly because he liked it--the thought of being held, controlled, captured. There was as much to gain from it as there was in freedom; a sense of security; the knowledge that he could place his body in Midnighter’s hands and be assured he would come to no harm. Midnighter pressed a kiss to the back of his neck, raising his arms higher, placing a significant amount of strain upon him, knowing the ache to be desired.    

    “God!” he shouted, throwing his hips back, winding them up as to take Midnighter for all that he was worth.

    “We killed him, remember?” he asked, vainglorious for all of three seconds, stomach tensing as his husband clenched down around him, causing a cracked and broken groan to rip its way from within his throat. 

    If Apollo knew who he was, would he still want him? A question Midnighter feared the most. If Stormwatch had given them the opportunity to return to their old lives, resume a normal existence, would Apollo have come with him? There was no history; however, only them, only here, and only now. There weren’t a lot of ways in which a person could torture Midnighter, but this, he knew, was one way for sure; he so often did it to himself.  

    “Don’t stop. Don’t you dare stop,” Apollo said, the rasp in his voice a subtle clue that he was close.

    “Wouldn’t think of it.”

    Midnighter released his hold on Apollo’s wrists, lungs working at full capacity as he moved in order to rest on his side, drawing Apollo’s up as he re-entered him. Apollo took the change of pace in stride, concluding Midnighter needed the intimacy, whether or not he would announce it. Midnighter tilted Apollo’s head, kissing him with all he had, concluding that it would never be enough. The power behind each thrust was enough to make Apollo cry out, body significantly hotter in temperature as Midnighter implemented the quick use of his teeth to make a path from the nape of his neck down the center of his back, hand stroking him languidly. Apollo could only give as much as he could take, hand kneading the meat of his husband’s ass.   

    Midnighter worked him through his orgasm, coaxing Apollo for all that he was worth. The breathless sighs and moans he pulled from those perfect lips was enough to have him wrecked and hungry for more. Apollo clenched around him again, using enough force for Midnighter to spill inside him without a thought or a sense of unease. The next couple of minutes were spent collecting themselves, a sense of contentment exuding from him as Apollo rolled over, a sedated grin to his well  sculpted features. Midnighter kissed the tips of his fingers as they danced along his cheek.

    “Think you’ll sleep now?” he asked.

    “I think I might,” Midnighter said as Apollo’s head resided upon his chest.

    Apollo would always be Apollo to him; and true name or not, he was satisfied to have him as a lover, a partner and a friend than nothing at all. Without Apollo there was no Sun, no light, only the ever present darkness that dwelled within him. The darkness he used to cultivate his own namesake. Apollo: God of light. Apollo: his entirety.    


End file.
